The first thing I knew in the morning was that the storm had turned into a raging blizzard. It was not yet very cold, but the snow was drifting as fast as it had any time during the winter. I found Pike more comfortable. I had hoped for the train, but the storm discouraged me. I began to wonder what I was going to do with him. That his leg was broken was certain, and I almost wished that I had let him go with the others. It was Sunday, and the first thing I did after breakfast was to write my regular letter to my mother, telling her all that had happened the past week; and it was a good deal. Then I started out to take another look around town. My sleep had done me a world of good, though I still felt stiff and lame. It was impossible to do much in the storm, but I covered up the bank safe with some blankets, and nailed boards over some windows in other buildings which had been broken by the explosion. I finally turned up at the depot and went in to see about the fire. As I opened the door I was astonished to hear the telegraph instrument clicking. I knew the line was down and could not make out what it meant. I understood no more about telegraphing than Kaiser, but in visiting Tom Carr during the fall I had learned to know the call for Track's End, which always sounded to me like clicket-ty-click-click, clicket-ty, over and over again till Tom opened the switch and answered. Well, as I stood listening I heard this call for Track's End, clicket-ty-click-click, clicket-ty. Then I saw that the line must have been repaired; but if this were so a train must have come nearly through; otherwise the repairmen could not have reached the break, which, I remembered, Tom said was just beyond Siding No. 15, fourteen miles east of Track's End. I went to the table and sat down and listened to the steady clicking, the same thing, nothing but the call. It gave me a good feeling even if I didn't know where it came from. I could not understand why any other office should be calling Track's End, as they must all know the station was closed for the winter. Then it came to me that a train must be on the way, and somebody thought it had got here. Just to see if I could, I reached over, opened the switch and tried giving the Track's End call myself. Of course I did it very slowly, with a long pause between each click; but I thought I would show the fellow at the other end that Track's End wasn't quite dead after all. Then I closed the switch, and instantly was surprised to hear the call repeated, but just as slowly and in the same way that I had given it. It came this way two or three times, then I gave it as best I could, then it came the same way once more.